


iridescence

by epxchl, hibiscuses



Series: Pinks, blues. [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Hour of the mice au, Jisoo is confused, Might have a 97-99 line story, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Substance Abuse, Wonwoo is not always grouchy i swear, kind of not really, relationships to be updated, theyre prodigies, your call on whether they are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epxchl/pseuds/epxchl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibiscuses/pseuds/hibiscuses
Summary: the bittersweet taste rests on the tip of his tongue. he hates it but he likes it. he doesnt know it but he's already hooked.





	1. #031634

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the manga The Hour of the Mice/Hatsukanezumi no Jikan by Kei Toume

_([manga sypnosis](https://myanimelist.net/manga/3105/Hatsukanezumi_no_Jikan))_

Jisoo remembers 120km/h as a metaphorical speed for his writing under time constraint, trying to scribble whatever he managed to cramp in an all-nighter (not that he really needed them). 120km/h was once a value of constraint, suffocating and piled on expectations, a room of uniformity, heads buried, fingers quick, clocks ticking. 

Now Seungcheol drives at 120km/h, and he doesn’t have to keep himself silent. His arms are opened to enjoy the breeze in their overcrowded car. The only similarity is how quick the information come and goes, the view of the trees and the passersby disappearing as soon as they appear. 

He registers Soonyoung and Junhui’s screams, the sound of cans opening and gas exiting. He registers the loud music Seungcheol blasts. The older has ridiculous taste, but listening to the beats of  _ Pick Me  _ while feeling his shirt flutter against his skin wasn’t that bad of an idea. 

Jisoo has always been the friend that burdens decision-making. He is the one disagreeing and the reason why lunch discussions have to be held a day prior so everyone knows where to go. Well, occasionally Jeonghan’s picky tastes overpower his rejection for unfamiliarity, local tastes over international flavours. 

And when Seungcheol suggested just ditching and running, Jisoo was, of course, the only one who disagreed. Because education, decent jobs, ordinary lifestyle.

But Jisoo himself doesn’t know what kind of hope he was holding onto anymore, what with an annoyed Jeonghan screaming at him to  _ look _ , to  _ think.  _ And Jisoo understands. He understands, but he’s denying it and Jeonghan’s not drilling in the facts for him to see anymore. Everyone is aware, and he’s only pushing Jisoo to admit it.

The air is heavy but the breeze of isolation is comforting. It lightens the mood, releasing tension. Seungcheol complains that someone else should drive so that he can enjoy the breeze too, Wonwoo wakes up, annoyed at the commotion, yet stifles a smile upon seeing the others enjoying themselves. 

They went rounds around the different routes in the city and Seungcheol stops by the school. Jisoo stares and the seven of them exchange looks, soft smiles but no one’s genuine. Jisoo can read the smiles. He knows the stories and the expressions. They grew up together after all. Everyone could read everyone else like a book. 

“Jisoo, do you miss the  _ place _ ?” Soonyoung had to, just had to, read aloud what was in the book.

The rest turned their heads to look at him, and Jisoo knows that there's no point in lying anymore, “Yes.”

“Why?” This time it’s Wonwoo, because it’s their group dynamic. Someone asks, someone answers and someone else asks. 

Jisoo shrugs. Maybe he’s still reliant on what they had back then, but maybe not. Maybe he misses the peace and maybe he misses the ignorance. Ignorance is bliss. 

“The effects...” Jihoon comments, “it sticks.” 

“Which?” Jisoo asks, as if it wasn’t obvious enough. 

“The pink ones.” Jihoon replies.

“How do you know the blue ones didn’t?” Junhui asked and everyone stayed quiet.

“Let’s go.” Seungcheol comments and they went full speed ahead, silent this time. The breeze just lightly knocks as Seungcheol switches the radio off when the beats get too overbearing.

-

“Jeonghan.” Jisoo whispers. 

The long-haired boy turns his head, trying not to wake anyone up. “Yes?”

“Blue pills…” He’s caught in his own words, because going into specifics of the pills is a no-no, not before this at least. “Do you remember anything? Before the academy? The early years?” 

Seungcheol makes a sound of annoyance in his sleep and Jisoo flinches, before realising that he had just been getting comfortable.  _ Must be nice sleeping easy.  _ Seungcheol wraps his arms around Jisoo. The latter keeps his gaze on Jeonghan, and waits for answers.

“Bits.” Jeonghan states, “They come back like waves of deja vu. Nostalgic bits. There’s people but they’re all faceless. I hear money talks, arguments and bits of everything. They’re not great. I don’t want to remember.”

“But you do anyway,” Jisoo finishes and Jeonghan turns to lay on his back, and closes his eyes. 

Jisoo does the same and he sees the blue morphing into violet, maroon, amber.

-

They receive a warning text from the university in the morning about missing days of essons and something about expulsion. Jihoon and Wonwoo delete it on instinct. Seungcheol and Junhui miss it in the piles of texts they get from concerned classmates. Soonyoung and Jeonghan let it be and Jisoo gets an additional text about no longer being eligible for a scholarship program he had been elected for.

He adjusts his gaze upwards, looking towards Jihoon and Soonyoung, trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. Not that they were particularly secretive about it anyway. 

“They called me a prodigy,” Soonyoung comments, voice laced with guilt, “I love dancing and being called a prodigy is so... Just so, amazing, Jihoon. Yet, every time they said it I had to suppress the urge to be humble, because humility could give it away. And it eats into me every time someone lost the lead to me, because I myself don’t know if I actually  _ am  _ a prodigy. I mean, I get that they conduct aptitude and interest tests before establishing the chemicals, but-”

“It should have faded by then though. Maybe you really are one,” Jihoon cuts him off, looking away. And Jisoo recognises this expression, because Jihoon practically mirrors the face Soonyoung made. 

“They called you a prodigy too,” Jisoo butts in. “They practically called all of us that. They called me a genius and Junhui the next Oscar nominee.”

“Do you think the pills’ effects really fade?” Soonyoung asks. 

“I don’t know.” Maybe Jisoo would know if they stayed, if he’s still given the daily dosage of pink substance. He snorts at the irony. 

Jisoo was the one who told them, was the one who figured out the effects, was the one who drew the connections and now he thinks it’s fading because he  _ doesn’t  _ know if it fades. 

“Speaking from a business perspective, it should.” Junhui cuts in, slotting himself into the conversation. “It’s supposed to last, but not for long, because they want return customers.”

“We’re experiments, those that have it stay could be failures.” Jisoo tapped his fingers against the table.

“That, and it’s not supposed to be so blaringly obvious, it’s supposed to be sold as supplements, else it’d get banned.”

“They said what Seungcheol had was worse than steroids.” Jihoon adds.

“Technically they are steroids.” 

“Let’s not get technical here,” Soonyoung comments. Jisoo thinks about the chemical compounds within the pinks and steroids. He wants to see what’s within, but he guesses that there’d be at least 80% steroids in Soonyoung and Seungcheol’s, 50% in everyone else’s.

Whatever.

-

Jeonghan doesn’t drop his specialty. Not that he had to. Not that anyone did, but in a way, Jeonghan and Wonwoo were just lucky that they didn’t need immediate audiences like Soonyoung or Junhui, a variety of specific apparatuses like Jisoo or Jihoon, or an entire team like Seungcheol. 

Jeonghan is talented, expressive and distinct. Jisoo could see a certain piece and tell it’s Jeonghan. Hell, Jisoo could see an imitation of classical pieces and tell it’s Jeonghan. And he’s unable to pinpoint how. 

The familiarity Jisoo feels as he watches Jeonghan run his brushes over the canvas irks him. It brings up an awkward sense of nostalgia, as if he knew what colours Jeonghan is going to blend, what brush he’d use and the different strokes and patterns Jeonghan runs. 

“Jisoo, how do you think this will turn up?” Jeonghan steps back and sizes up the whole canvas, starting a casual conversation. 

“Blue… Messy…” Jisoo blurts out, looking at the canvas, trying to come up with words to describe the design he visualises in his head.

It’s always been like that. Jisoo can see the next move Soonyoung is going to bust out in a freestyle session, can hear the next tune Jihoon is about to write, can predict the next action Seungcheol is going to make. But he’s never adapted enough to bust it, never inclined enough to match the sounds and never agile enough to play on court. 

It’s as if they mixed everyone else’s into his, but not in the right amounts.

Jeonghan finishes his painting and it’s indigo and grainy and splatters all over and Jisoo vaguely tastes the pink again on the tip of his tongue.

He downs water till he throws up just to flush the taste.

-

Seungcheol comes back with a black eye one day, and everyone swarms around him with questions of concern, curiosity and fear as Jisoo treats it for him.

Soonyoung is almost crying and Jihoon holds himself back. Wonwoo almost runs out to find those goddamned bastards if not for Junhui who’s holding him down. 

“Forget it,” Jisoo comments, lightly dabbing the antiseptic moistened cotton buds on the bruise. Seungcheol winces and Jisoo feels the tug in his heartstrings.

“I second that,” Jeonghan adds on. 

The room goes eerily silent and it deafens Jisoo, fingers trying not to shake. 

He’s the first to cry and he taps the cotton bud between little huffs. He knows everyone is staring and he doesn’t want to feel anymore. 

Forget  _ it.  _ Forget that Seungcheol got hit by street players because he told them his name and the news of the seven of them has spread around. Forget that the kids in school called him a cheater. Forget the scholarships he’s been deprived of. Forget that they came from there. Forget the pills ever existed. Forget education, decent jobs, ordinary lifestyles.  _ Forget it. _

_ Fuck.  _

“If only I never said anything,” he whispers under his breath, only Seungcheol catches it and tries to pull him into a hug. Jisoo swipes his hand away on reflex, spilling the uncapped antiseptic bottle. 

Soonyoung comes back with the cloth and Junhui appears with the pail and it’s always like that between them, automated responses, communications without words. 

He turns in early and tries to drown himself in the myriad of orange, away from what the others say.

-

_ “Are you sure?” Jisoo asks, watching Wonwoo pack while Jihoon locks his luggage. _

_ “What considerations do you have? Even  _ they’re  _ packing, arts specialties, they’re the ones who’s gonna get to leave here with their dream job, and  _ they’re  _ leaving? Dumping away chances to become great sportsman, actors, musicians and you contemplate staying? To work for this faculty and to fuck up the next generation for this filthy business?”  _

_ Jisoo shouldn’t have said it, shouldn’t have told them, shouldn’t have been elected for sciences in the aptitude tests. _

_ “We’re helping people. We get to help people.”  _

_ “For fuck’s sake, no.” _

_ Wonwoo’s the only other science specialty, computer sciences, and he did the research after Jisoo had his Eureka and now they’re all running. _

_ “Don’t tell me you’re getting reliant on the pills, the  _ fucking pills. _ ” _

_ Maybe he is. _

_ “Goddamnit Jisoo, get used to it. Outside, no one’s using the pills. There are actual successful people without them out there.”  _

_ Fuzzy fuzzy. _

_ “Run! Split into three groups, hurry!”  _

_ Fuzzy fuzzy. _

_ ‘“Academy. Scholarships. Wonwoo. Fake.” _

_ Fuzzy fuzzy.  _

-

The morning air is fresh, and it’s bittersweetness is heavy for some reason, much like the taste of maple syrup against Jihoon and Soonyoung’s burnt pancakes.

His eyes are sore and he remembers they’re not in the secluded school by the forest anymore. It’s been a year. They settled, had their scholarship money and managed to save some reasonable amounts to live.

They fill the dining table one after another, grabbing their own pancakes and choosing the less burnt ones. Jisoo notices how Seungcheol eye is surrounded by shades similar to parts of the pancakes. 

Jisoo  _ think _ s he’s seen it before, the violet, only darker, more towards red. He vaguely remembers it being fresh, and something spilling and cotton buds and-

“ _ Seungcheol, what happened to your eye?” _

  
The whole table turned to face him, heads raised, eyes widened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank Jin (epxchl) for proof-reading this and coming up for a description for me! 
> 
> I've been talking about an Hour of the Mice AU for two years straight, yet never established the right plot to write it. Like it says in the tags, there might be a 97-99line version since this is a 95+96 line one, I have rough plots, just... motivation. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, you can find me on twitter - @honqapple and hope I'd post anything about it lmao.


	2. #00DFFC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he's the first to break their promise, and he sleeps promising himself that it's all for good intents.

In the heat of the moment, Seungcheol forgets, forgets about coming home and forgets about the consequences, the implications and the reactions.

 

He used to push it to the blues, but they know very well that’s not how it’s “memory manipulations” works. There’s more to the memories than he could ever comprehend, short-term, long-term, events, techniques and Seungcheol can’t  _ breathe _ sometimes. 

 

Jisoo treats his eye gently and softly, dab after dab yet it still hurts. Seungcheol’s grateful because that’s the only thing distracting him from actually looking at Jisoo in the eye, to see the hints of self-blame and disappointment that’s written all over and Seungcheol feels the guilt crawl up his neck like a spider. 

 

“Close your eyes,” Jisoo whispers as he studies the chemicals on the antiseptic label and he almost didn’t catch it in the midst of questioning. 

 

Seungcheol does as he is told.

 

“So you fought them.” It’s Jeonghan’s voice. 

 

“I had to.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

“They said things about us. They know me. They know us.”

 

“And what did they say that was so serious that you had to retaliate and not leave it be?” 

 

He opens his mouth to speak, and he feels the pace of the cotton bud against his skin quicken, vaguely feels it shake. Maybe he really shouldn’t.

 

He says it anyway.

 

“They said we’re all filthy cheaters and we’ve conned the scholarships out. They said we didn’t deserve a place here and we should all fucking _ leave  _ and return to the wretched research grounds.”

 

Now that he thinks about it, it wasn’t that offensive, but Seungcheol just won a match and the air of victory just didn't sit well with him, as if they gave him a handicap to stage his win, just so they could spite him.

 

“Where the fuck-” Wonwoo stands up and Junhui pulls him down, telling him it’s not worth it and Jisoo’s going faster and faster and-

 

“Woah Jisoo,  _ chill!” _

 

Jisoo drops his cotton buds and the yellow of the antiseptic stains the white of the couch. 

 

“Forget it.” Wonwoo throws his arms up in the air dramatically, then proceeds to slam his door closed while everyone stays, and stares. 

 

Jeonghan says something and Seungcheol doesn’t hear it through Jisoo’s light sniffling and he hears what Jisoo whispers under his breath, and his arms go up to give the younger a hug. 

 

He should have known better. 

 

Jisoo pushes him away and in his actions, topples the antiseptic bottle, staining the perfectly white couch with yellow iodine. Seungcheol should have known better because Jisoo hasn’t accepted hugs, hasn’t accepted skinship from Seungcheol, or anyone, since they left. 

 

Soonyoung and Junhui cleans up and he watches as Jisoo returns to his room early, skipping his dinner. 

 

-

 

“Jihoon, you kept the pills right?” Seungcheol asks, when Jihoon and him are the only ones left awake. Great timing.

 

Jihoon nods, if anything’s a secret, it’s  _ how _ he managed to sneak them past the security system.

 

“Can I?” 

 

“Blue or pink?”

 

“Your pinks don’t work on me.” Maybe it does though, who knows. 

 

“And what assures you my blues do?” Right, he has a point. 

 

“I want to  _ forget _ , not become the next Mozart, so does it matter if your pinks work on me more than your blues do? There’s risks I’m willing to take.” 

 

Jihoon shrugged. “Three weeks of chores.”

 

“Deal.” 

 

-

 

Jeonghan was the one who caught him meshing the pills into tiny white powdery bits and poured the glass of milk beside it right down the sink.

 

“Where did you get this?” 

 

“Jihoon.” Where else.

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Listen, it’s not for me. It’s for-”

 

“Jisoo?” 

 

Seungcheol swears he saw Jeonghan roll his eyes and he held himself down from actually heading forward to break his jaw.

 

“He was crying.”

 

“And?”

 

Because fuck, how can Jeonghan be so uncaring over the fact that one of them is having guilt eat him up. How can Jeonghan be so unbothered by the fact that some of them have the self-loathe after losing their supposed “talents”. Because Jeonghan doesn’t, so he doesn’t care, doesn’t  _ have to  _ care.

 

“Just this once,” he assures Jeonghan. 

 

“He can’t sleep. He’s been in the room with his head in his knees.” Jeonghan pours him a new glass of milk and walks out. “I didn’t see anything, and neither did you. Nights, Cheol.”

 

Jeonghan just always has to be morally right, and morals say one shouldn’t spike another’s drink and integrity meant that he should report what he sees, even when no one else is doing it.

 

“Nights.” 

 

He pours the powdery bits into the glass of milk.

 

-

 

Seungcheol enters the room and takes a spot next to Jisoo, tilting his head to match the line of vision of the younger, to make himself visible. 

 

“Can’t sleep?” Jisoo lifts his head up and nods.

 

He passes Jisoo the glass of milk, trying so damn hard not to falter, not to shake for even a  _ tiny  _ bit, because he doesn’t want to spill the milk (and his secrets). He just needs Jisoo to down it. 

 

Jisoo accepts it, fingers careful just to minimise contact with the older boy, and he checks on Seungcheol’s eye before drinking a sip. “How’s your eye?”

 

“Better, maybe looking at you worked better than the first aid.”

 

“Soonyoung says you’re banned from driving for us anymore.” A second sip. “And even if you’re allowed to, you can’t drive past 60.” 

 

Soonyoung came earlier, Seungcheol notes, and it seems like his conversation worked magic, like always. Because there’s visibly less tension in Jisoo’s shoulders.

 

“Right, noted.” Seungcheol tried to sound mockingly bored, yet he really isn’t.

 

“I’m sorry.”  _ Not this again. _ And Seungcheol gets flashbacks to being an amazing basketball player in the research faculty, where those who only took blues didn’t perform half as well and games were a bore but the glory Seungcheol basked in was t. “I should have kept my mouth shut, I shouldn’t have said anything,  _ anything at all. _ ”

 

Because Jisoo really should have kept it shut and really shouldn’t have said anything and Seungcheol fights every bit of temptation in him to agree, or to shut Jisoo up, and the two conflicting emotions eat at him. 

 

A third, long sip and the glass empties. “I’m sorry you have to give up your basketba-”

 

And Seungcheol loses the internal battle, the three way match met its winner and Seungcheol can now taste the aftertaste of the milk on his lips and he can see with his fine eye that Jisoo’s eyes are widened and almost teary. And his arms are holding on to the younger’s shoulder and it’s shaking so much and he takes it as a cue to let go.

 

“It’s okay. Go to sleep,” he whispers, as reassuringly as possible, yet his lips are trembling.

 

He stays awake till Jisoo falls asleep and realises it’s almost 4 in the morning.

 

It really isn’t okay.

 

-

 

Jisoo asks what happens to his eye in the day and Seungcheol tries,  _ tries _ , to go with the flow, acting all surprised and shocked while Jihoon kicks him from under the table.

 

“Nothing,” he lies.

 

Jisoo’s alert enough for this, better than this, and Seungcheol knows and Seungcheol knows he isn’t probing further because he flinches when he’d claimed there’s nothing wrong and he’s studying their expressions again.

 

“Okay then.”

 

The dining table clears and it’s him and Jihoon again. 

 

And Jihoon looks like he’s ready to  _ snap  _ Seungcheol’s head off his body and mince him into pieces, because Seungcheol fucking lied about it.

 

“Explain.” Seungcheol’s prepared for this, ready to face it. 

 

“I’m worried.”

 

“About Jisoo?” 

 

Seungcheol nods and he keeps his gaze down, playing with his fingers. “It’s just, every time anything happens to us, it’s the pills and Jisoo regrets, because he’s the one who told us about their effects. And it’s so difficult to witness.”

 

“That doesn’t give you the right to rob him of his memories, even if it’s for his own good. It’s a filthy lie and fuck, Seungcheol, you said you’re using them for  **_yourself_ ** and I trusted you.” Jihoon seethes, and Seungcheol sees it, the same glint in his eyes, that pathetic guilty feeling of something that isn’t even his fault. 

 

“You what?” it’s Wonwoo.  _ Fuck. _ “Choi Seungcheol, you didn’t. You fucking didn’t.”

 

“Chill.” 

 

“Fuck no, I’m not going to simply chill because you told me to. Fuck. We didn’t run away for you to use them again, you don’t think you’re helping Jisoo, do you?”

 

“I did.” Seungcheol states defensively. “He looks happier now and-”

 

“Side effects.” Wonwoo states, eyes closed, “what about the side effects?” 

 

_ Oh. _

 

Wonwoo always has to be the one, ever since Jisoo told them about his suspicions. Wonwoo was the one who broke the school’s firewall and followed up with extensive research. He never told any one of them of the full details, except for Jisoo and he planned their paths, traced the route and found their escapes. He faked their backgrounds and gave them the mundane life, as any 17 and 18 years old would have. 

 

Wonwoo hates the pills and Wonwoo never liked being treated like a puppet, a ragdoll without his own voice and most of all, Wonwoo detests it even more that the people he cared about was treated this way. 

 

“ _ I’m sorry. _ ” Seungcheol apologises, but it doesn’t really change much, the air is still tensed and he’s trying to breathe, to swallow down whatever responsibilities were pinned on him with Jihoon and Wonwoo’s glares.

 

“Jisoo’s sick,” Jeonghan states as he enters the kitchen to get himself a wet cloth, “It’s the side effects, if you remember, his immunity is weakened for a bit, really unlucky for him to catch any illness so quick. Don’t blame yourself, Cheol.”

 

Maybe Jeonghan didn’t stop him because what he did wasn’t exactly wrong. 

 

-

 

He rests his head by the bed as he watches Jisoo sleep, tossing the rubber ball into the hoop that’s placed in front of their shared bed. 

 

Seungcheol remembers the basketball game, and he remembers how sloppy his passes were and how only one in five tosses succeeded in getting the ball into the hoop. He remembers the words they said and right now he’s tossing balls into a room model and he’s missing every one of them and-

 

It goes into the hoop. 

 

There’s a taste of satisfaction on the tip of his tongue. He misses being amazing, being glorified, being the best player on court. He misses being confident.

 

Maybe he didn’t know, didn’t appreciate the value of greatness because he never had to begin from ground zero. 

 

It’s a familiar taste, almost like that of the pinks and he takes a sip while remembering how it was. And he’s fidgeting, trying to suppress all the cravings for it while Wonwoo and Jisoo’s voice on how fucked up they were play like broken tapes in his head. 

 

Jisoo wakes up and smiles sheepishly at him, Seungcheol forgets about the pinks and promises himself that he’s no longer reliant on the blues. 

 

Jisoo soft laugh is like music and he treats Seungcheol’s bruised eye again, gentle and fluid.

 

“Be careful next time,” Jisoo chuckles as he jokingly exerts pressure in one of his taps.

  
Maybe he should have promised Jihoon six, nine- no, _twelve_ weeks of chores instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't take milk from Seungcheol.
> 
> Okay just kidding but chapter 2 came about way faster than I thought it would so I shall just upload and start on chapter 3. Cheol's character is honestly too interesting for me not to write so huehue. Hope you enjoyed it!


	3. #800000

The outside world hasn’t been as bad as Wonwoo predicted. They had had social classes for that, after all, to integrate so that they didn't end up socially awkward or socially incompetent the day they entered actual  _ society. _

 

It’s in the reminder that he’s being treated inhumanely, like white mice, inside the facility where he endures the chiding of his professors and uncooperative project partners. Not exactly the best expression, but it’s reasonable to assume that it’s out of faith and, to some extent, trust that they had treated him this way. And he swallows it, forgets it.

 

So now, he’s in a cafe with Junhui and Jeonghan as they discuss an animation with subliminal messages, about their prior institution and the ugly, ugly pills they feed them. And he’s admiring Junhui’s flare for storytelling and Jeonghan’s lovable character designs. Fingers tapping as they discussed colour schemes and symbolism while he waits for his turn to animate. 

 

The ambient noises in the background slowly,  _ slowly  _ focuses onto the girls sitting on the table directly behind them. Wonwoo tries to direct his focus away,  _ eavesdropping is wrong eavesdropping is wrong eavesdropping is wrong. _

 

_ “That’s a pretty fucked up thing to do, are you sure we should?” _

 

_ “What if Eunseo finds out?” _

 

**_Do not eavesdrop_ ** _. _

 

_ “Trust me, Dawon’s wonderful at hypnosis and Eunseo  _ **_needs_ ** _ to forget about those incidents. It’s causing stress in our friendship and she’s much more aloof than she used to be.” _

 

**_Eavesdropping_ **

 

_ “But, Luda, we can’t decide for her.” _

 

**_Is_ **

 

_ “It’s for her own good. For our own good. I’ll make sure she doesn’t remember, so that she can sleep at night and I’ll pay Dawon a lot for this.” _

 

**_Wrong_ ** .

 

He’s not as violent as Seungcheol. He’s better than this. He’s not returning home fighting some group of girls who thinks they  _ can  _ rob their friend of her memories. He’s not, he’s not,  _ he’s not.  _

 

“I’m going home, I’m not feeling well. Brief me when you get home.” He closes his laptop and packs up. The animation can wait and he has to run before he catches a glance of that girl’s, Luna or something, face and etch it in hismind. 

 

Pastel bob cuts don’t leave great impressions anymore. 

 

-

 

“You’re back early,” Jihoon comments as Wonwoo enters.

 

“Have always been extra punctual,” Wonwoo responds, “How’s Jisoo?”

 

“Better. He took just one so it should be okay.”

 

He scans Jihoon from head to toe. Music specialty. They say music works wonders and he swears he didn’t google the name Dawon on his way back to know that such things exist.  To know that she has a pleasant likeable voice.

 

“Jihoon, is music hypnosis a thing?” he asks, but maybe he really shouldn’t.

 

Jihoon looked up, shocked for a bit. “I’m not sure, I mean I know of ways to trigger emotions, but  _ hypnosis? _ ” 

 

“Do you think hypnosis actually works better than the pills?” 

 

“I don’t know. Pills are… scientific but they’re experiments anyway, I guess.” Jihoon shrugs. There’s the joy of talking to Jihoon one on one. He entertains, he answers. Wonwoo remembers Jihoon’s mediocre scores in those society integration classes, wonders how he scores lower than Junhui and Seungcheol all the time. 

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Why?” Maybe that’s why, because Jihoon’s not the most sensitive. 

 

“Just curious.” Maybe Seungcheol and Junhui weren’t  _ curious _ enough to fail it. 

 

-

 

“Seungcheol gave you a blue pill.” Wonwoo speaks, as softly as he can, rehearsing (as Junhui would say it) while watching Jisoo’s sleeping form.

 

Jisoo deserves to know, but he shouldn’t sell Seungcheol out, really shouldn’t.

 

Gosh, why couldn’t Seungcheol be fair about it and give him one too?

 

Wonwoo immediately gave himself a mental lashing for even thinking that, because  _ fuck _ , leaving was all he wanted. He wants to leave and now he’s out and he’s thinking of using it again. Manipulated  like he’s a puppet on a string. 

 

His blood boils and Jisoo sits up, reaching for the glass of water by the table. 

 

“Wonwoo?” Jisoo questions before taking a sip.

 

He needs to breathe, he needs to calm down. 

 

“Where did you get that glass of water?” 

 

The water’s clear as crystal, barely affecting the visuals if not for the diffraction. There couldn’t be anything there,  _ there couldn’t there couldn’t.  _

 

Wonwoo remembers his blues were slightly darker than everyone else’s and his temper was a side effect, although Junhui said it could be his nature entirely.  It’s been a year and he needs to stop clenching his fist. 

 

Maybe Junhui was right. 

 

“The water? Soonyoung refilled it for me!” 

 

Relief. Soonyoung wouldn’t, it’s not Soonyoung-like to do so.

 

“Jisoo,” he starts off. Jisoo was always in the way of his plans, waking up a tad too early this time he couldn’t flip a coin before deciding if he should tell him, “Seungcheol spiked your drink, you took a blue pill last night.”

 

Jisoo’s fingers shake, staring up in disbelief. He should’ve flipped the coin, he could’ve waited, he should’ve, he could’ve.

 

The door barges open and Seungcheol enters, Wonwoo knows he’s fucked. 

 

“Fuck, why did you?” Seungcheol glares daggers, speaks throughtheigh gritted teeth. 

 

“You shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”  _ Don’t tremble, don’t falter, you’re not in the wrong.  _

 

“It was for Jisoo’s own good.”

 

“That was a minor incident, he’d get over it.”  _ Oh fuck Jisoo’s there.  _ “You missed the pills yourself and you’re using him as an experiment, you don’t give two shits about how he feels, because if you do, you wouldn’t even  _ think  _ of them.” He’s not being coherent right now. He  _ needs to stop. _

 

He could see the blow coming. Seungcheol’s blows will hurt, Wonwoo knows.  _ vaguely.  _ And he shuts his eyes, it’s worth it, it’s worth it. 

 

“Okay chill.” he opens his eyes to Junhui’s voice, Wonwoo thanks whoever for Junhui’s strength being sufficient to stop Seungcheol. 

 

Jeonghan and Jihoon came over to usher Seungcheol out, and Junhui ghosts his fingers over his shoulders, guiding him into their room, waiting so they don’t cross paths.

 

He hears the glass shatter and sees Jisoo hugging his knees to his chest when the door opens a sliver as Soonyoung scurries for a broom.

 

-

 

“So.” Junhui starts off, “you decide to pick a fight with someone who survived one with an entire basketball team.”

 

Of course, Junhui always knows how to phrase things. 

 

“I decided to explain the rationale of his actions, shove facts in his fucking face, unintentionally leading to an almost-fight.” Wonwoo corrects.

 

“And,” Junhui lightly slams the table, “what makes you think it wouldn’t before the escalation?”

 

Questions like these.

 

“You know what, why are you so focused on the fight than the reason itself?” Wonwoo argues.

 

Because honestly speaking, no one is wrong here.

 

The insides of the fences are black and white, everything is written in 1s and 0s, you’re either wrong or you aren’t. Systematic and simple. 

 

But here, things are different. 

 

“Seungcheol had good intentions in doing so.”

 

“But it’s not right. You think Jisoo can handle knowing it later? He took three months before telling us. It’s his basic right we’re talking about here.

 

Junhui’s skills go beyond the stage, he knows. Being an actor of such caliber and having to study it so in-depth, he knows all the nervous habits, all the subtle actions and Wonwoo is holding in every subconscious urge within him to let Junhui know he’s right.

 

“You always talk about rights, but what about Jisoo’s right to choose not to leave then?” Of course, bull’s eye, Junhui knows what events to mention to win an argument.

 

“That’s different.”

 

“In what way? Jisoo didn’t  _ want _ to escape.”

 

“That’s how he seems.”

 

“And maybe he wanted the pills to forget Seungcheol got beat up too? Aren’t you more hurt over Seungcheol using it than actually concerned about Jisoo here?”

 

“Stop talking about the pills.”

 

“Stop  _ thinking  _ about them then.”

 

It’s after Junhui leaves the room and 20 straight minutes of staring at the ceiling fan, frustrated tosses of pillows that Wonwoo realises that Junhui could be right afterall. 

 

-

 

Wonwoo doesn’t know when he fell asleep, but he wakes up drowsy and the noises flood his sense before he can register anything else. 

 

Soonyoung is screaming and Junhui himself just woke up, he looks out and figures it’s night time and it was midday when the whole thing happened, so he could have been asleep for quite some time by now. He leans himself against the sitting and just as bleary Junhui, both giving Soonyoung a face that says it all, eyes fluttering open and close, open and close. 

 

Annoyed, Soonyoung claps by their ears and he doesn’t laugh like he usually does, their eyes widen and they granted him full focus, this better not be one of Soonyoung’s antics again. 

 

“Jisoo hyung is missing.” Soonyoung looks like he’s almost crying and they both shoot straight up, shoving the blankets aside.

 

“Do the others know?” Junhui asks.

 

Soonyoung shook his head. Of course, Soonyoung would tell the calmer of the two parties before anyone else. But it’s a matter of time, considering the size of the house and the closed environment they live in, that it would take only minutes before everyone else realises. 

 

“Maybe he just went out, to take a breather and what not?” Wonwoo suggested, teeth clenched.

 

“But he’s ill. Jihoon and Jeonghan hyung keep nagging that he’s not supposed to leave the house at all. Plus with everything that's happening…” Soonyoung tries not to look at Wonwoo.

 

“Whatever it is, let’s not waste time here. Jihoon wouldn’t give you guys and Seungcheol the time of  day if he knew.” Junhui puts on a jacket and briefly combs through his ruffled hair. “Let’s go.”

 

As they head out, quick and discrete, Wonwoo thinks it’s selfish that a larger part of his concern in searching for Jisoo is in case he collapses or if he decides to visit a hospital to wash the blues out, because public hospitals are connected to the government and the government is in contact with the faculty. And if they find Jisoo, they’re all screwed and Wonwoo’s not prepared to return, not even prepared to have their group reduce in number.

 

He cares about Jisoo and he’s pretty sure Soonyoung does too, but Jeonghan can be scary when he’s mad, and Jihoon worse so. Maybe facing a mad Jihoon and Jeonghan is Soonyoung’s biggest concern then. He doesn’t know but he can assume. 

 

Afterall, not one of the professors lecturing them on the outside society back then forgot  to mention that everyone out there is a tad bit selfish at best. 

  
_ “It’s tough, but it’s the reality out there. _ ” He snorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo is a walking irony, but this whole thing has a paradoxical nature to it in a way idk. Anyways yass wjsn cameo yes dawon and hypnosis is based off secret mv.
> 
> Late updates because of school and me being very very lazy, but it's here now, hope you enjoy it!!


	4. #00DFFC

It’s a tad bit too bright for what Jisoo was used to for such an hour of the day, in a place with so many bushes and flowers. He just isn’t taking in the information that it’s almost 11pm. The only cue then was the prickly cold that was seeping into his bones as his thick pyjamas wasn’t doing its best job.

 

At least he can breathe now. 

 

He couldn’t take the migraine of thoughts that came as he stayed in that room. The memories he had fighting the components of the pills and he felt every moment that his head was almost about to burst, as he broke out into a cold sweat. If that’s what Jeonghan and Jihoon calls ‘rest’ then they’ve never been more wrong. 

 

Anyone would tell him he shouldn't be sleeping outside past 11, or else he’d look homeless, but the chills in his skin and the fatigue overcoming every bit of him isn’t helping. He thanks his lucky stars that he has his phone with him. He only has six numbers saved; deleted everyone else's the moment he left the school.

 

Eyes drooping, fingers ghosting over the keys, he slowly dials one of them and places his phone by his ears, trying not to fall victim to the rhythmic nature of beep tones. 

 

“ _ Hello, Jisoo? _ ”

 

“Hi.” Drowsy and soft, it isn't really much different from how he usually spoke. “Bring me home.”

 

“ _ Where are you? Are you not in the room?” _

 

_ “Jeonghan-ah, is Jisoo not in the room?” _

 

_ “Oh shi- he isn’t- Wonwoo, Soon- Not there either.” _

 

_ “Uh hello, Jisoo, where are you?” _

 

“Park. The park behind,” he mumbles.

 

_ “Okay, uh, keep the phone on. We’ll find you.” _

 

He follows the instructions and doesn’t hang up even as he slowly, subconsciously falls asleep. A swirl of the indigo dark skies slowly becoming the light blues of day.

 

-

 

Jihoon has the speaker on, holding onto Jeonghan’s phone as the three of them rush out, picking out the warmest coats in reach while Jeonghan almost falls fitting on his socks. Seungcheol doesn’t even bother and pairs some graphic socks with a plain white one. It could be a one person job, but just in case.

 

The beep tone halts and Soonyoung’s voice comes on the line, a hesitant salutation.

 

Seungcheol tries to grab the phone on reflex, but Jihoon catches it and shifted soon enough to prevent him from doing so. 

 

“Where’s Jisoo?” Jihoon asks, emotions under control, making it sound as genuine a question as possible.

 

Junhui’s voice could be heard over the line, and Jihoon snorts. They’re really playing it.

 

_ “Oh it’s Jihoonie, hi Jihoonie!” _

 

“Where are you?” 

 

_ “We’re out.” _

 

“Out where?”

 

“ _ For fucks sake this isn’t funny anymore.” _

 

He hears the muffled sounds of the phone getting snatched and he recognises Wonwoo’s voice from the other side.  _ God bless. _

 

“ _ Jisoo’s lost. We’re out searching for him.”  _

 

“Right. Update us if there’s anything, we’re searching for him now.” Jihoon is sensible about this, because first, Jisoo is a bigger priority than lectures on responsibility and second, lashings work better face to face. (Forgiving Soonyoung in the form of a hug is warm and comforting and Jihoon’s favourite feeling in the world.)

 

“Seungch-” he hears Jeonghan’s brief voice calling for the older before the sound of quick footsteps and they both take their cue to speed up as Jeonghan closes their gate.

 

-

 

Seungcheol thinks the apologies running in his head are trying to race against the actual pace he’s rushing himself to comb the entire layout of the park for. 

 

Because  _ where the fuck is Jisoo. _

 

He should have just fought against Junhui’s hold earlier on and actually give Wonwoo the lesson that boy deserves, but not on Jisoo’s watch.  _ Not on Jisoo’s watch. _

 

And he’s opening his homescreen every other half a minute to check if he missed any calls or any texts from the others because he’s never felt so afraid about anything. The basketball team could beat him to death for all he cares. At least it would have prevented this from happening. 

 

Jisoo barely left the house ever since the escape. Initially, it was the fear of getting tracked down, then university work started piling and Jisoo worked better indoors and then they went back to the paranoia of being tracked, despite the fact that there has never been cases of students actually getting nabbed back. The faculty knows better, waits for them to fuck up, police stations and hospitals.

 

Except that one time, it was the day where Seungcheol decided Jisoo needed a breather and brought him out here and Jisoo was shaking so much and Seungcheol gave him words of reassurance before ending it with a brief confession, brushed it off as a joke. It wouldn’t mean as much to Jisoo as it does to Seungcheol, right?

 

But maybe if he traced, left, right, he could find the right spots, the right bench, something somewhere, there’s something special. Waves and waves of deja vu, and the bittersweetness was so strong he began to taste the same taste he thought he forgot.

 

There’s a shelter next to the ixora shrubs. There’s tons of them in fact, but the park’s colorful theme gave them distinctive roofs and Seungcheol remembers that it was one that he wasn’t that much familiar with. 

 

_ Yellow _ .

 

Jihoon’s a liar, he's done this before, more than once, to Seungcheol. And Seungcheol realises because images are flashing before his eyes like a broken film and he realises why Jisoo changed, the ever expanding distance between them.

 

The favour was always a trap. Seungcheol wouldn’t remember that he owed Jihoon three weeks of chores if he used it for himself. And now he owes him six, and he’s afraid because he doesn’t know how much more he owes and-

 

He spots the yellow roof and the sleeping figure, phone slowly slipping off slender fingers.

 

Seungcheol remembers the last time he came here: the brief touch of his lips against the other boy’s, where time seemed to halt. And he remembers how he deleted it from his mind because Jisoo ran home after and he doesn’t know what to comprehend about that. 

 

Slowly hoisting the figure onto his back, he promises that the next time their lips come into contact, both of them would remember.

 

He tepidly reaches for his phone and hangs up the ongoing call between him and Jisoo that's been on for almost an hour, texts everyone that he found the younger and slowly makes his way home. 

 

Things aren’t okay, they really aren’t but Seungcheol resolutes to make them be. 

 

-

 

“We need to talk.” Jeonghan declares, arms crossed over his chest as he stands by the open door, watching Seungcheol tuck Jisoo in and place another cloth by his head.

 

“Right, we do.” 

 

“ _ All  _ of us.”

 

Seungcheol’s not ready to face Wonwoo nor Jisoo at a round table in an official fashion. 

 

“Jihoon thinks so too.” Jeonghan spots his reluctance.

 

“How’s Jisoo. Will he be okay?”

 

Jeonghan bites his lip, shuts his eyes, tries not to be crude like his usual self. Seungcheol wants to cry. 

 

“I don’t know. He used to talk about things with me but not anymore.” Jeonghan ruffles his hair and lets his arms fall to hang by his sides, slowly making his way to sit beside Seungcheol. “I don’t think he trusts me anymore.”

 

“Why so?”

 

“ _ I wonder,  _ Seungcheol, I wonder. I mean if it was me and the one I’m closest to amongst other friends in a group started to break their promise I have all the reasons to trust everyone still,” Jeonghan snarls. Gosh, why is Jeonghan so tempting to punch. “You know you broke the promise twice, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“Getting out was… in its own way, a mistake,” Jeonghan mumbles, gaze fixed on Jisoo, “I guess when we have to fend for ourselves and we only have so much funds then, when all of us started to go hungry, he just began changing. He asks me every so often if he should have even told us about being experiments.” 

 

Seungcheol’s always angry at everyone, is full of reasons to be. Wonwoo initiated the escape and everyone went along and he himself was part of it and Jeonghan was always so annoyingly snarky and Jihoon always speaks over him and… 

 

But, as aware as he is that the root cause goes back to how Jisoo told them, breaths shaky, in their dormitory room, he just couldn’t find any reason to be mad at Jisoo. It’s a foreign feeling he swallows like how he swallows the blues, and he always wakes up to a disappointed Jisoo, whose lips he knew too well tasted like an overdosage of the pinks. 

 

“What Wonwoo found out and what I found under Jisoo’s pillow though, we really don’t have much choice,” Jeonghan began. Seungcheol turns warily to look. Something seems off. “It’s supposed to be between us but, as fucked up as it is that we’re experiments, science faculty students… It just isn’t the same.” 

 

“What did you find?” A part of him is screaming not to probe. Not yet. 

 

Jeonghan hesitates, of course he would, it’s Jisoo’s privacy and he wasn’t allowed to see it to begin with. Nervous habits, combing his hair over and over.

 

He snorts, remembering the times Soonyoung exclaimed that they shouldn’t have any secrets kept from one another. Everyone agrees and he remembers keeping true to it, remembers Jisoo putting his hands with the others, smile plastered and wavering. 

 

The other barely get to answer before he hear soft pained sounds, attention quickly directed towards Jisoo.  

 

“You fall asleep too easily.” Jeonghan mumbles, quickly running his hand over Jisoo’s hair to comfort the slightly younger boy, “this happens almost every other night but sometimes I don’t even notice myself, he only wakes me up if it gets too overbearing, he never wants to disrupt you off your sleep.” 

 

Seungcheol felt another pang of guilt fall on him, if that’s just about how much guilt Jisoo feels all the time then Seungcheol cannot believe his tolerance. 

 

“There’s a sketchbook, a small one, and he used to draw out his nightmares, turns out he can draw pretty well himself… To some extent.” Jeonghan explains, “it scares me sometimes but, I don’t know, we don’t know if it’s the pills suppressing them that they turned out in his dreams or what, but…”

 

He stopped listening when he sees the discomfort in Jisoo, the younger curling up with clenched fingers, eyes twitching with soft squealing sounds. 

 

“Jisoo.” He nudges, tapping the younger softly, the first contact causing the younger to flinch, eyes wide opened as he watches the two of them shakily.  _ Oh fuck.  _

 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Jisoo whispers, eyes slowly glinting with tears as he pulls the blanket up to cover himself entirely. Jeonghan sighs and attempts to pry the blanket off Jisoo’s grip, only earning muffled repeats of the same statement. 

 

Why can’t Seungcheol stop fucking up for once.

 

He’s processing apologies again, thoughts sprinting while he stays half frozen, watching as Jeonghan tries to calm the other boy down. And Seungcheol realises how he’s been the selfish one all these while, that between the two of them, he deserved the blow more. 

 

Shaky breaths, he slowly brings himself to pull the cover down, to be met with Jisoo’s startled face, eyes tinted red and lips broken from biting a tad bit too hard. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” 

 

It’s an unfathomable stream of emotions and Jisoo stares at Seungcheol for a tad bit too long before bursting out even more, and Seungcheol could tell Jeonghan never had to deal with such a degree of breakdown, judging from his expressions, and he hears the doors click before hazy statements in Jihoon’s voice and whatnot. 

 

“We cannot go back, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,  _ I’m sorry, please don’t go back _ .” Jisoo begs, pleads, fingers curling up, scratch marks forming on his palms. 

 

“We’re not going back.” Jeonghan says firmly and Seungcheol knows he’s not doing so for the sole purpose of calming Jisoo down,  _ he means it. _

 

A part of him wonders why Jeonghan gave him the second glass of milk, but that’s a thought he’s leaving for another time. 

 

Jisoo’s outbursts settled for something softer, he’s still tearing up, yet no longer filled with muffled words and incoherence, it’s just sniffles and tiny gasps as he tries to catch his breath, much like the time he treated Seungcheol’s eye. 

 

“Seungcheol.” Jisoo calls between hiccups, gripping onto the ends of the tear-stained blanket, creasing the pikachu print on it. The older lifts his head, letting out soft hums in acknowledgement. “Can you… hug me?” 

 

And he grants Jisoo’s request, letting the smaller boy sob into his chest while he strokes his hair. He barely hears Jeonghan chuckle and cough before excusing himself out of the room. 

 

It’s been a year since he last hugged Jisoo like this, a year since he left his comfort zone of being  _ spectacular _ , a year since Jisoo actually told him anything. 

 

He finally understands why Wonwoo hates everything so much, Wonwoo doesn’t mind being played like a puppet on a string, that’s only a part of the concern. There’s the scary part about remembering what you’ve forgotten, what you  _ wanted  _ to be forgotten and Seungcheol sees the brief flashbacks while holding on to Jisoo, yet couldn’t make them out, appearing floaty like broken bits of a dream. 

 

“I’m sorry, I’m seeing the laboratories again.” Jisoo whispers, voice cracking from the outburst and the exhaustion slowly growing on him, “I know you really wanted to return, but I simply  _ couldn’t _ , and I don’t want you to return without me.  _ I’m sorry- _ ”

 

Stop _. _

 

“For being selfish.  _ I’m sorry- _ ”

 

_ Stop. _

 

“I’ll tell you everything when I’m more comfortable, I’ll tell everyone and just,  _ I’m sorry-” _

 

**_Stop._ **

 

“You had to see-”

 

And again, he shuts Jisoo up, it’s the same tactic he adopts, briefly feeling Jisoo’s quivering lips and this time he doesn’t taste the pinks that he craved, nor the blues hidden under hints of milk. It’s sweet, leaving him craving for more for a different reason,  _ sweet victory  _ in a different context, blending in with the salt of another wave of tears coming from the smaller male. 

 

The sweetness makes him feels all the butterflies flutter and his world is slowly dyed in lilac and pink and yellow and all the colours of positivity. The saltiness makes him feel his heart jump uneasily and the maroon of outlined navy fighting for dominance in his vision, slowly,  _ slowly,  _ clouding the lilac and it’s  _ guilt _ . 

 

But he’ll live with it.

 

Jisoo falls asleep quickly after that, the fatigue from the outburst and his temperature rising again, practically collapsing onto the pillows, breath coming in huffs as he trembles from the cold. Seungcheol takes his usual spot and slowly pulls him into a hug as Jisoo sleeps, even if Seungcheol can’t himself.

 

He’ll deal with not being able to sleep over the guilt eating him up. He’ll take his consciousness to his full advantage so Jisoo recovers quickly and he’ll be there first hand if anything. It’s just a flu, and Jisoo recovers fast. It’ll be okay.

 

_ It’ll be okay. _

 

He’ll learn to cope with it, because if he ever falls asleep, he’ll wake up to Jisoo waking up and this time, they’ll both  _ remember. _

 

_ - _

 

“Seungcheol.” Jihoon stops him. Oh, what  _ now _ .

 

He peers over the shorter boy’s shoulder. Jisoo’s all well now, laughing and smiling and whatnot with Soonyoung and Junhui. He’s never been this happy in a while. 

 

“What?” Just get this lecture, or whatever Jihoon intends to do, over and done with. Let it slide, let it slide.

 

Jihoon hesitates, fidgeting and looking everywhere but at Seungcheol. He never acts like that. The last time was when they were still in the faculty, when he probed Jihoon for his altitude tests result which was supposed to be a secret then. So, whose secret does he have to sell today?

 

“Can you please tell Jisoo he owes me four months worth of chores?” Jihoon asks, sounding stern yet shaky, because he’s testing if Seungcheol figured out the trap this time and if he didn’t, then it’s a mere passing comment. He gets the hint.

 

“How much does he promise each time?” Seungcheol asks.

 

“A week, sometimes two, most of them due for almost a year.” They’ve been out for a year. How did Jihoon get the vast supply anyway? “He needs help.”

 

But Seungcheol doesn’t know how. He doesn’t even know for what.

 

“He promised another week, this morning.”

 

Jihoon returns to his room promptly after and Seungcheol catches Jeonghan and Wonwoo looking over. They probably know something themselves. 

 

_ Oh fuck.  _

  
_ They all  _ **_need_ ** _ to talk. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you guys end November!
> 
> Okay anyway this chapter took so long despite me finishing long ago because, well, I wasn't satisfied with it for a long time but it's here anyway. Hope you guys enjoy it!


	5. #ff00ff

Junhui remembers that girl he dates barely 3 months after escaping. 

 

She was chinese, just like they said he was, not that he had much exposure to the issue regarding race and ethnicity within the faculty for him to know much. But for authenticity for his entrance to the real world, he had mandarin lessons for the earlier years and some korean lessons much later. Communication with the rest was a hassle, but they manage anyway. 

 

And somewhere,  _ somewhere _ , he remembers the first sentence he could construct and Wonwoo’s pleasant expression, excitedly yapping to Soonyoung and Jeonghan about how they could communicate now. 

 

They didn’t tell him how there was some slight stigma that he’d have to face out there. That he’d be spouted on something about some sea, leaving himself all confused as he paints the ends of the stage prop, accidentally painting the wrong colour, it was supposed to be blue undertones on a moon, yet its pinkish on ends. Great job.

 

That’s when Jieqiong came in, her doll like features prominent, as she managed a queenka esque tone to call him stupid mockingly, reminding him of the greyish blue that’s suppose to be the shades of the moon. And Junhui replies in mandarin, from the earlier shocks of the sea debate and from how breathtakingly beautiful Jieqiong was. 

 

She’s chinese too, because she replies just as fluently, not that it wasn’t obvious from her name to begin with. 

 

Junhui has been the top scorer in societal integration, he takes pride in that, because no matter how high Jisoo scores in his scientific merits or how well reviewed Jeonghan’s art pieces were deemed, they can only get themselves so far if they can’t decently communicate. 

 

Now he’s the first to date a girl amongst them.

 

It started off after the pink moon incident, but the catalyst was truly the second audition, where they both got selected as leads for a butterfly lovers performance. Jeonghan insists it was Romeo and Juliet, but at least the butterfly lovers winded up together.

 

Jisoo and Jihoon were very much indifferent over it, the former being more of a mind his own business person, minimal verbal comments if there was any and the latter just simply can’t give two fucks about everyone else’s dating business unless it’s Soonyoung. 

 

She was beautiful, so fucking gorgeous, under the bright theatre lights, donning her traditional stage costumes, and he loses himself in her eyes everytime. Seungcheol mocks his lovesickness, Soonyoung expresses envy and coughs on Jihoon about what he deserves. Wonwoo says she’s rather shady, Jeonghan did a _nudge nudge_ on Junhui with regards to that statement. 

 

Junhui still lives with every regret over just how cruelly he cuts it off with her. 

 

Because he thought it never bugged him, that he wasn’t like Wonwoo or Jisoo or Seungcheol and their pills drama that he has mixed feelings of being part of. Because he thought that escaping would end it for him and just like his results are reflective of him, he’s finally, finally  _ normal _ .

 

But Jieqiong was so experimentative, always trying out new things, earning bucks from small jobs of every sort. And the day she scrolls past an online leaflet over a sleep study, he flairs up and he only regrets hours later when he’s in his own room, when Jihoon, Wonwoo and Soonyoung are asleep. He finally, finally cries.

 

“ _ We get paid for sleeping and waking up. That’s literal it. It’s just a short experiment that we ca-” _

 

_ “Experiments.” He repeats. _

 

_ Jieqiong was always looking for new things for them, no dull moments allowed. _

 

_ “Yea,” she gleefully answered,  _ how fucking  **gross** ,  _ as if there was nothing wrong with that. “Is everything alright?” _

 

_ “No, my girlfriend thinks human experimentation is okay, that’s horrid as fuck, that’s far from alright.” He flared, a mix of Korean and Mandarin because he doesn’t have the patience to wait the millisecond to find the right word. _

 

_ “Junhui, you know if you don’t want to we can just don’t, plus, this sleep study is going to be helpful to thousands of students and-” _

 

_ “ _ **_Fuck no._ ** _ ” He hisses, “it’s not alright, will never be, why are we putting our own selves at risks for these said thousands, are we really worth nothing? That we let them treat us so filthily.” _

 

_ “Jun,” _

 

_ “Fuck off, we’re over.” _

 

Wonwoo says _I told you so_ , Jisoo cuts in for the first time and argues that both cases aren’t the same to begin with. Jieqiong moves herself to the dance club after and Junhui asks Soonyoung about her until he really can’t see it in him to care about her anymore.

 

-

 

The doorbell rings, Junhui opens it. 

 

“Jieqiong.” He looks behind, briefly catches Soonyoung’s questioning plea on who’s that, “why are you here?” He asks in mandarin and he doesn’t need to turn to see Jihoon shoving the rest in.

 

“Not for you.” She replies, harsh and straightforward. Junhui was over her, just like she was, made clear by her onslaught of instagram posts with that Nayoung girl and smirk emojis filling up the comment. Those he ignore the captions jabbing at him and double taps on anyway. 

 

But there is genuine concerns on why is she here, because the school shouldn’t even know where they live, did she come down to apologise out of pity now that everyone knew his spectacular role of Liang Shan Bo is nothing without what he used to choke down his system out of ignorance. Spotlights are his thing but it wasn’t always about him. 

 

Jieqiong had a nickname,  _ Pinky _ , ironic as fuck, because she brought out the best in his acting and now he’s so fucking sick thinking of that colour and his questionable talent.

 

“I’m here for Jisoo.” She states. It perks up his suspicion, and he could imagine the puzzled expressions on everyone else’s face. 

 

“For Jisoo?” He turns, hesitating between probing and calling Jisoo out, not when one of Jisoo’s gazillion nervous habit involves him continuously tapping whatever his fingers are in contact with and the sound of the creasing leather of the sofa is so blaringly loud.

 

“Yes, the school wants him back, it’s nothing, big.” Junhui catches the odd placing of verbal commas in Jieqiong’s statement, that nanosecond worth of hesitation. 

 

“Doesn’t dance emphasise on posture?” He smirks, jabs in mandarin, to put up a fight. “So why aren’t you mindful of how your knees bend when you say that? About how you gulped, about how you brought your arm to your waist? How about you tell me that you’re not a she this time, Zhu Ying Tai?”

 

“Translations!” Jeonghan calls out, obviously enjoying it.

 

Junhui takes a step back, hands resting on the ends of the door, “Tl;dr, someone’s acting skills are starting to fade, can’t lie while blinking.” Haughty smirks, and the door closes, ignoring Soonyoung’s question of  _ what’s tl;dr? _

 

Jeonghan claps, “bravo, bravo, now I see where the Chinese romeo and juliet differs from the western one.”

 

Jieqiong proceeds to knock onto the door, Junhui ignored it and walks away and Wonwoo proceeds to open it when he got sick of the noise.

 

Wonwoo was ready to put up another fight, one that was less teasing like Junhui’s, coated with literal glares and threats until Jieqiong strategically shouted the purpose of visit across the room.

 

“Nayoung told me that the Science faculty wants him back, and his scholarship, they came up with a new proposal! They’re offering higher prices for this, more than the total price of all seven of your previous one combined.”

 

Wonwoo snorts, no mercy for her little finger when Jisoo yells “I will take it.” And Jieqiong smirks while everyone watches him in confusion, “and none of you can reject it for me.”

 

He stomps to his room quickly and if Junhui catches his quivering fingers, his shaking shoulder, his softening steps due to his knees, he doesn’t say anything.

 

Jeonghan practically dashed after Jisoo, Seungcheol follows. And the wind chimes on their room door rang, restarting its tune twice before going on for a long, long time.

 

-

 

“Go away.” Was the first thing Soonyoung caught when he snuck behind and sat outside the door, his ear pasted against it as he blocked out the metallic melody of the chimes.

 

He’s always putting up the happy-go-lucky front that they’re clearly too afraid to break, while he himself is too much of a coward to question what’s wrong. Every point of him consoling whoever only tackled the blatant facts. 

 

But he’s not that  _ dense _ .

 

He knows, knows, perfectly well. Jihoon told him, no filters.

 

“Jisoo, it’s not worth it.” Jeonghan argues, the only complete sentence he managed to catch. 

 

“Job… Work… Support…” he catches until he feels a nudge on his shoulder, then he sees Jihoon and he hastily shushes the slightly younger boy. 

 

It’s not like he could really hear the intensity of the debates ongoing. But he needed some context, so if he ever has to console any of them again, he wouldn’t say the wrong things that opens up wounds that the others just continuously impose on each other. 

 

He lets out a soft grunt before sitting elsewhere, Jihoon following suit, they sat in silence, putting up faces of some exasperation mixed with helplessness. The world outside the fences were just so complicated.

 

“Why did I,  _ we _ , agree to escape with Wonwoo though?” Soonyoung asks. Indeed, why? Don’t the research says art specialties get to go for a path they would love, Soonyoung could easily be a  _ top notch, world renowned  _ dancer, choreographer, name it, if he stayed. 

 

But now he’s stuck here, in a measly club in a university, facing true genuine competition of people who could do as well and even better  _ without  _ the pinks.

 

It’s clear that Junhui did so because Wonwoo wanted to and both Seungcheol and Jeonghan did so because Wonwoo said that science specialties, especially the science Jisoo’s covers, end up in an undesirable direction, to recreate those things for the next generation of students and that doesn’t fit Jisoo’s morals. So they left so he would too. 

 

“I only agree because I thought you would.” He blurts, Jihoon’s eyes widening in slight surprise.

 

“Really? Because that’s what I did too.” Jihoon mumbles, before smiling softly, that it is, the adorable side of Jihoon that Soonyoung proudly declares that is only for him to see. “You know I’ve thought of wanting to return. The professor rejected three of my productions in a row.” 

 

Soonyoung’s eyes widened, mouthing a “no way.”

 

“It was frustrating you know, I never remember anything of mine getting rejected, I wanted to tell Wonwoo I’d return or just stay here and sneak a pink one or two myself. In fact I did, I snuck one or two and the fourth production was accepted - but not without harsh criticisms.” Jihoon lightly laughs, there was some guilt for he himself breaking the promise. 

 

“They said it lacked emotions and sincerity. That the technicals were good but just it wasn’t overall spectacular. Then I remembered the names from our old faculty, listened to their songs and got everyone’s point. So I scratched the fourth production and started the fifth from scratch, opened up to you and wrote my fifth, for you.” 

 

Soonyoung visibly blushed, and Jihoon’s pink slowly crept up his cheeks. 

 

“The reception was better. But it’s not any different if I can still see how you are from the inside. So after I brushed up and completed my fifth, I wrote my sixth, for a girl in my class who had her heart stomped by some other guy in school. It was rejected by the higher ups but she didn’t, and we worked together to finish it and performed it once. Response was good.”

 

Soonyoung taps his fingers, leaning closer to the shorter boy, “was it titled get out?”

 

Jihoon nods, stopping himself from asking the obvious before sneaking a small peck up Soonyoung’s cheeks. 

 

The wind chimes rang again, and out came Jeonghan, then Jisoo, clinging tightly to the boy before him, heads lowered to avoid any eye contact. Soonyoung thinks Jisoo’s tight grip on Jeonghan may leave a permanent crease on his jacket.

 

And when Seungcheol leaves the room, Jihoon gave Soonyoung’s hand a slight squeeze and Soonyoung gets the message. 

 

He’ll talk to Jisoo later, then Seungcheol, then Jeonghan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back.


End file.
